


pizza rolls, not gender roles

by thunderylee



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autism Spectrum Character, Bisexual Character, Genderqueer Character, Other, bonus hole, genderfree baekhyun, jongdae is a furry, transgender intercourse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Chanyeol doesn't often frequent these types of establishments, but it's Pride weekend and everywhere he goes is raining glitter and shitting rainbows.





	pizza rolls, not gender roles

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic i've written in almost two years. damn, it feels good.

Chanyeol doesn't often frequent these types of establishments, but it's Pride weekend and everywhere he goes is raining glitter and shitting rainbows. While it's far from his first time at a gay club, it's the first time since there were letters other than the traditional LGBT.

Even now, surrounded by questionably gendered individuals gyrating and making out with equally as questionably gendered individuals, he couldn't tell you what those other letters mean. "Queer" is still a slur used by his grandmother whenever he does anything remotely effeminate, but so many of these patrons were sporting the word proudly on their clothing or accessories, reclaiming it for the night or possibly a revolution.

Chanyeol has known he was bisexual ever since kindergarten, when he couldn't decide whether he wanted to kiss Jongdae or Krystal at the top of the slide. He ended up kissing them both, earning a punch in the face from Krystal and a lifelong best friend-slash-fuck buddy in Jongdae. 

Now there seem to be more options, the blatant blending of gendered presentations like facial hair with breasts, flat chests with skirts, and high heels with hairy legs. So many people were wearing makeup and elaborate hairstyles that Chanyeol couldn't tell the difference between male and female, masculine and feminine, penis and vagina, at least not based on everything he's been socialized to understand as a moderately woke twenty-four-year-old cisman. 

That's the point, he realizes as he relaxes into the bumping music and the watered down well drink he'd gotten on special. Tonight, in this place, everyone is human first, wearing gender as an accessory instead of a label. Even Chanyeol himself is decked out in Pride garb, his longish hair temporarily dyed the colors of the bisexual flag (pink, purple, and blue) and his muscle shirt proclaiming love is love. 

His attention drifts toward a particular person dancing in the middle of the lit-up dance floor, presumably by themself, periodically sidling up to others before returning to their own moves. They're graceful yet sultry, like a seasoned stripper who only performs private shows, eyes closed as their hips sway to the beat. Chanyeol can see the sparkly winged eyeliner from across the room, illuminated by all of the colors of the rainbow flashing in time with the song.

Chanyeol recalls the old adage "dance like nobody's watching," only this mesmerizing creature has _everybody_ watching, from the obvious triad at the next table who can't keep their hands off of each other, to the bartender who has been wiping the same glass since Chanyeol sat down. Whether they are aware of it or not, this impromptu solo performance commands a presence, a second glance from other dancers and passersby, and not one person denies them a quick grind when they're mindlessly approached and seduced by a glossy smile.

Anywhere else, someone with spiky brown hair wearing a graphic tee and skinny jeans would blend in with the background, but not here. They stand out in a sea of sequins and leather, chains and binders, the ordinary becoming extraordinary by context. Even Chanyeol looks flamboyant by comparison. This person could be anyone walking down the street or attending Chanyeol's old university, including the makeup. Lately, men have been getting into contouring and highlighting their features too, much to the shock of Chanyeol's poor heteronormative grandmother.

The more he looks, the more he thinks his new obsession is a boy, but he knows better than to assume. All at once, the current song mixes into another, and the movement halts. Chanyeol almost falls off his stool in some kind of concentration inertia, and when his equilibrium is balanced again, that perfect winged eyeliner is much closer.

"You got another pair of those?" a muffled voice asks, neither high nor low pitched, coupled with big brown eyes looking equally pleading and pained as he points to Chanyeol's left ear. "These club mixes make my brain hurt."

"It all makes my brain hurt," Chanyeol replies automatically, his hands lifting up to pat the earplugs snugly wedged into his ears. They're pink in honor of the occasion. "I do have extra."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his backup pair, boring flesh-colored plugs that somehow match the stranger's ensemble. Up close, Chanyeol can see that their T-shirt says "pizza rolls, not gender roles" along with the transgender symbol made up by the aforementioned pizza rolls. 

That smile is even brighter up close, lighting up the dark room. As they pop in the earplugs, Chanyeol notices multiple silver hoops along the entire shell of their left ear and the tragus, which pulls his attention to a barbell through their right eyebrow and a labret stud sparkling just above their chin. 

"Your face is so symmetrical," Chanyeol says, making a pattern with the jewellry in his mind, neon streams of light shining between the points.

"Thank you," they reply. "I love your hair."

Chanyeol reaches up, momentarily forgetting what he had done to it. "Oh, right," he remembers nervously, threading his fingers through the soft locks for tactile stimulation. "My friend Jongdae did it. He's a furry."

He cringes, realizing too late that he's not supposed to say that outside of their circle of friends, but his new companion doesn't bat a sparkly eyelash. 

"I feel like a dog sometimes," they say, leaning over to be heard amongst the music and chatter that all blends together in Chanyeol's head. "I'm not sure if it's a furry thing or an attention whore thing."

Chanyeol doesn't know what to say to that, so he just nods. Nodding is a socially acceptable nonverbal cue that one is listening. He tries to remember all of the rules he's learned in his life, but it's hard to think with all the noise. Additionally, he's still transfixed by this genderless mirage taking the bar stool next to him, denim-clad legs dangling a few inches shy of the sticky floor. 

"I'm Baekhyun," they introduce themself, holding out a hand politely.

Chanyeol stares at the subtle nailpolish and seemingly endless bracelets, neon rubber and colorful beads and silver bangles hanging off their limp wrist. There's an initial twitch as Chanyeol raises his hand in response, but Baekhyun doesn't grab his fingers and squeeze too hard like the suited businesspeople at his work do. A light dusting of soft fingers, seeming to test the waters before luring Chanyeol's hand into a loose grip.

"Ch-Chanyeol," Chanyeol gets out, his mind swirling with sensations that are too much and not enough at the same time. For once, it doesn't hurt. "I'm Chanyeol."

"Hello, Chanyeol," Baekhyun says, flashing that smile again as they bring their joined hands to Chanyeol's lap. "Can I do your makeup?"

Chanyeol shakes his head, sending a few displaced specs of glitter flying out around him. "No. Allergies."

"Shame." Baekhyun leans closer, their breath pulling a shiver up Chanyeol's spine. "Is it the same with piercings?"

Chanyeol's skin itches at the thought of metal. "Sort of," he admits. Suddenly, he's really cold.

"That's okay," Baekhyun tells him, leaning back and questioningly lifting their hand from Chanyeol's; Chanyeol instinctively tugs it back down. "You're giving me mixed signals, dude."

That has Chanyeol exhaling a gust of laughter; if he had a dollar for every time he heard that... "I'm a bit overloaded right now," he manages to speak, his mind clearer from the slow rub of Baekhyun's thumb against his. 

"Should I leave?" Baekhyun asks, and Chanyeol grips Baekhyun's wrist. There's that smile again. "Should I stay?"

"Stay," Chanyeol decides, glancing up to stare past Baekhyun's pierced ear. He wants to say something else, smoothly engage them in conversation, but the right words won't come. They usually don't. 

Baekhyun doesn't seem fazed by Chanyeol's complete lack of social etiquette. Instead of assuming that Chanyeol is just humoring them, or perhaps too inebriated to converse (his first drink sits forgotten on the bar behind him), Baekhyun takes him at his word and settles back on their stool, absently playing with Chanyeol's fingers in a way that's both calming and arousing.

"It's nice to talk to somebody who doesn't ask what I am," Baekhyun tells him, leaning their head on Chanyeol's shoulder. Without the pressure of looking at them, Chanyeol can focus on the flashing lights and better follow Baekhyun's words. "You would think that Pride weekend would offer some reprieve from societal labels, but alas, I've been gendered four times since I got here."

"I thought you might be a boy," Chanyeol admits, frowning at how it comes out. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," Baekhyun teases, nudging Chanyeol's shoulder enough to knock him mentally off balance. "Is it okay if I'm not?"

"It's okay either way," Chanyeol blurts out, his words prefacing his thoughts as he points to his hair. "I'm bi, right? I'm good with whatever you've got."

Baekhyun laughs, a low throaty sound that reverberates through Chanyeol's nervous system. "Are you propositioning me?"

"No!" Chanyeol exclaims, so loud that he startles himself, accidentally losing Baekhyun's touch as Baekhyun jumps back like Chanyeol had burnt them (or the other way around). Chanyeol's heart pounds and his brain throbs at unintentionally pushing Baekhyun away, fucking up yet another social interaction due to a stupid misunderstanding he should be programmed to anticipate. 

But Baekhyun doesn't move. They scrutinize Chanyeol carefully, like they're trying to figure him out with those golden shadowed eyes alone, and Chanyeol fears that this will be like every other time he's tried to talk to someone since he graduated university and had to actually try and make friends instead of having them readily available in classes or dorms. Eventually, they assume he's disinterested and leave him frustrated and alone, because he can't seem to find a suitable medium between casual distance and overly friendly glomping. He'd learned the hard way that the latter would get him in trouble, especially with women.

"Do you want to dance?" Baekhyun asks suddenly, gesturing out toward the bright lights and moving bodies. 

"No, thank you," Chanyeol answers, remembering his manners while trying not to think about how disoriented he gets when he tries to do anything that involves coordinating all of his limbs at once. Some days, he can barely walk without bumping into everything and everyone in a six-foot radius, especially in a loud environment.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" Baekhyun tries again, placing their hand palm-up on their own knee. Chanyeol thinks it might be an invitation to touch again, but he's not sure. "Maybe your place?"

It takes Chanyeol a beat to process that last question, then he's struggling to remember what day it is and Jongdae's work schedule, clearly picturing the messy scrawls on the animal shelter fundraiser calendar hanging in the kitchen next to the spatulas. "I don't think he has to get up early?" He blinks back to reality, realizing he was thinking out loud. "Jongdae, my roommate."

"The furry." Baekhyun nods. "He sounds fun."

Chanyeol isn't sure how to take that, so he goes with his instinct and smiles fondly. "He is. We've been together forever. Not like that, I mean." Chanyeol huffs as his hands ball into fists. "We're not a couple."

"Noted."

Slowly, Baekhyun reaches for the closest fist, urging Chanyeol's hand to open with more of those soft strokes. Now Chanyeol's the one who's palm-up on his own knee, the light trail of Baekhyun's short nails and the pads of their fingers undoing all of the tension in his body.

"Your smile is unique," Baekhyun observes, and immediately Chanyeol retracts what is undoubtedly a goofy grin on his face. "No! Don't stop, I mean." Now Baekhyun is the one huffing, their frown breaking Chanyeol's heart. "I like it. I like you."

Warmth floods Chanyeol's veins, different from the heat and sweat of the club after a long day of parading and walking around. It's not a foreign feeling, but he doesn't remember the last time he felt this way with another person. Surely, he had to have felt it with his ex-girlfriends and that one time he and Jongdae tried to properly date, but he can't recall it now. If it's been more than a couple days since he experienced something, it's gone from his muscle memory. 

"Your place?" Baekhyun suggests again.

"Yes," Chanyeol consents firmly, the only thing he's been positive of since Baekhyun had sent him into sensory overload.

*

"I like you too," Chanyeol says an hour too late, when Baekhyun's in his lap and he has free reign to explore all the skin in front of him. 

"I would hope so," Baekhyun replies with a chuckle. "I don't take off my pants for just anybody."

"Your boxers are so cute though," Chanyeol teases, his humor returning with each brush of his fingers along Baekhyun's arm. His hands seem ginormous against Baekhyun's small form, contrary to the weight pressing him into the couch. 

Baekhyun looks down at the animated characters and snorts so unattractively that Chanyeol laughs into their hair. The mixture of shampoo and sweat has Chanyeol's rarely stimulated olfactory nerves putting out the usual misfires of Chanyeol's brain wires. Between the pleasant texture of Baekhyun's arm hair, the grounding weight on his lap, and the intoxicating scent, he's more comfortable than he has been in a long time. Everything is perfect, and nothing hurts.

"How do you want to do this?" Baekhyun asks, their voice tickling Chanyeol's ear, oversensitive after wearing earplugs for so long. 

Chanyeol shivers at the stimulation, but it's far from painful and he presses his face further into Baekhyun's neck, lips dragging along the damp skin. "What are my options?"

Baekhyun moans softly, leaning down to rub his nose against Chanyeol's in an Eskimo kiss. "Do you have any toys?"

"I do," Chanyeol answers. He wants to lean forward so badly, close the distance between them in a crushing kiss, but finishing this conversation is essential to what comes next. "All kinds."

"I could do you," Baekhyun whispers, their own fingers dropping to Chanyeol's waist, dipping behind the waistband of his Bermuda shorts. "Or you could do me."

"Which way do you like better?" Chanyeol doesn't recognize his own voice, deep and gravelly like he'd just woken up. It sounds almost as nice as Baekhyun's hair smells. 

"Usually, I like to top," Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol's body throbs at the dominant tone. "But with you, I think I'd rather go for a ride."

Chanyeol's cock jumps at the promise of Baekhyun bouncing up and down on it, those sinful hips swivelling to take him in deep. Up until now, it hasn't mattered what Baekhyun has between their legs, but Chanyeol can't actually proceed until he knows how to prepare them. 

"Do I need to get lube?" he asks in what he hopes is a casual demeanor, more curious than he ought to be considering the basis of his attraction to Baekhyun is their androgyny. 

Baekhyun giggles, a sound so out of place in their voice but still natural. "Easy, cowboy. We still have most of our clothes on."

"I just want to be ready," Chanyeol mumbles defensively, then inhales sharply as Baekhyun starts pressing light kisses to his face, leaving behind glossy residue with each spark of stimulation. "Besides, wouldn't you be the cowboy in this arrangement?"

"Cowperson," Baekhyun corrects, their lips navigating to Chanyeol's nose, which wrinkles with discontent at the altered word. "Give me your hand."

They don't have to ask twice. Chanyeol quickly offers Baekhyun his hand, which is seized and slid underneath the cotton of their shirt to where the skin is raised and textured. It feels nice to touch, but Baekhyun's shudder and hiss tells him that he shouldn't press too hard. 

"What's this?" he asks, too turned on to think about being forward. "Did you get stabbed or something?"

Baekhyun laughs and throws their arms around him, inadvertently squashing Chanyeol's hand between their chests. Chanyeol shakes his wrist pointedly and Baekhyun pulls back, but only enough for Chanyeol to move comfortably.

"It's from my top surgery," they say. "It's been six months, but it's still really sensitive. I like how it feels when you run your fingers along the scar like that."

"Like this?" Chanyeol repeats the movement, noticing how Baekhyun squirms in his lap, and all at once he realizes Baekhyun was answering his question from before. "So, no lube, then?"

Baekhyun's smile looks a million times better with bedroom eyes. "Nope."

That has Chanyeol's willpower completely dissipating. "I'm going to kiss you now."

"About time," Baekhyun says, meeting him halfway.

It's not as hard and fast as it was in Chanyeol's imagination; Baekhyun is a slow kisser, soft and thorough as though they needed to cover the entire surface of Chanyeol's lips before licking between them. It's equally as seductive and satisfying to his tactile nerves, a hint of fruit on Baekhyun's tongue pleasing his taste buds. Baekhyun's touching him now, sliding firm hands up his chest and down around his hips, and Chanyeol wishes magic were real just so he could get out of his clothes without making any effort.

Baekhyun is the one to pull away first, yanking their shirt over their head, and Chanyeol gets a good look at their reconstructed chest. The scars aren't as visible as they feel, but Chanyeol touches them anyway, first with his fingers and then with his tongue.

"Fuck," Baekhyun gasps, their hands tightening on Chanyeol's shoulders. They end up with two fistfulls of cloth and tugs at them. "Get naked already."

If there's one thing Chanyeol can do well, it's follow direct orders. He manages to shred his clothes without knocking Baekhyun off of the couch, which is a minor victory in its own right, but he pauses as he remembers they're in the living room, not his bedroom. 

Baekhyun pauses too, one hand sliding down Chanyeol's arm to lace their fingers together. "What happened?"

"Condom," Chanyeol spits out. "My room."

Baekhyun grins. "It's _Pride_ ," they say. "I have four different kinds in my jeans pocket."

They reach down to the floor, executing a perfect backbend, and Chanyeol admires the slope of their belly leading up to the flat chest separated by two symmetrical crescent-shaped scars. 

"You're beautiful," he says out loud, and Baekhyun returns with a foil packet and a sad smile. "Not in a feminine way," he rushes to backpedal, "but in a human way."

Baekhyun stares at him with an expression he can't read, but they're on him before he can overthink it, kissing him deeply and kicking off their boxers. Chanyeol's hands naturally gravitate toward Baekhyun's ass, which fits perfectly in his hands, and he feels an external warmth between his legs that has his cock twitching and his danger signals blaring because there's nothing between them.

"Condom," they both gasp between kisses, and they share a laugh as Baekhyun tears open a packet and gently rolls it on Chanyeol. They take their time, pumping him a few times and sending his back arching as he thickens in their hand, releasing the tension by squeezing the firm cheeks of Baekhyun's ass. 

"Touch me," Baekhyun says, a hint of a whine lacing their voice as they rock back and forth against nothing. "I want your long fingers in my bonus hole."

It takes Chanyeol a second to figure out what they mean, but then it makes complete sense and Chanyeol drags one hand around their soft waist to lower between thick thighs. He feels rough curls, then a hot wetness, desperately recalling his memories of navigating this particular anatomy. Baekhyun helps by wriggling until he finds an opening, carefully pressing one finger through the slick muscles, then two. 

"Yeah, like that," and Baekhyun offers a prelude of what's to come, leaning back on Chanyeol's knees to rock on his fingers, pressing something small and hard into his wrist. Baekhyun tightens around him, and Chanyeol naturally bends his knuckles, moving back and forth in tandem with Baekhyun's motions.

"What do you call that?" Chanyeol asks, his own voice sounding pained as each squeeze of Baekhyun's muscles make his cock ache.

"What?" Baekhyun asks, sounding distracted. They lean forward, snapping their hips to press the firmness into Chanyeol's wrist again. "That?"

"Yes," Chanyeol answers, swallowing a whimper when Baekhyun bites their bottom lip and starts rubbing pointedly. "What do you call it?"

"My dick," Baekhyun answers smoothly, continuing to gyrate on Chanyeol's hand like a choreographed routine. "It's not as-- _ah_ \--big as yours, but it suits me just fine."

"You're making me feel really good about myself," Chanyeol jokes, kissing the smirk off of Baekhyun's face and pulling them closer. Baekhyun's grinding Chanyeol's arm between both of their legs now, and it's all he can do not to tear his hand away and replace his fingers with his cock. 

"I want you," Baekhyun breathes against his lips, stroking Chanyeol pointedly. "Fuck me, Chanyeol."

It always sounds silly in the adult movies and erotica novels, but Chanyeol's blood boils at the vulgar demand. He's not as graceful as he could be, but he manages to get his hand out of the way and has approximately half a breath to brace himself for Baekhyun sinking down onto him, surrounding his cock with those contracting muscles. 

"Oh, oh," Baekhyun vocalizes, and it's the sweetest music to Chanyeol's ears. They find a rhythm together, Baekhyun rocking forward while Chanyeol thrusts upward, and they cling to each other with tight grips and desperate kisses as Baekhyun's body accepts him over and over again.

Sex is the one time Chanyeol enjoys how his brain is wired, his natural state of heightened sensitivity making it easy to prolong his release. He can concentrate on Baekhyun's satisfaction, taking pride with each shudder and moan, following their lead to hit the right spot with the right amount of force. 

He explores Baekhyun's body some more, dipping his head to lick their scars again and moving up to their nipples. Baekhyun's nails twist in his hair and he takes that as a blatant request to continue, flicking his tongue around the hardening buds one at a time until Baekhyun's bucking so hard they're losing their balance. Chanyeol slips out of them twice before he places both hands firmly on Baekhyun's hips, holding them in one place to keep them steady as Baekhyun takes him in even deeper.

"I wanna come," Baekhyun gasps, thighs trembling on either side of Chanyeol's.

"Show me how," Chanyeol tells them, and Baekhyun laces their fingers together once more to guide him between their legs. 

It's a lot like jacking off a penis, except that Baekhyun's is small enough that Chanyeol can twist it around in his palm and squeeze the tip with his fingers. It takes a few tries for Baekhyun to override Chanyeol's understanding of how this usually works, but then they're howling and shaking on top of him, tightening around Chanyeol so much that he almost comes with them. 

"You last _forever_ ," Baekhyun whines through desperate gasps for air, and it's Chanyeol's turn to laugh. "I'm totally topping next time."

"Looking forward to it," Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun seems to find more energy to ride Chanyeol's cock until he finally gives in and comes.

*

Jongdae looks entirely too smug for someone wearing cat ears and a tail at the stove. "Is your lady of the night still here?"

"Not a lady," Chanyeol replies with a wink as he disappears into the fridge for iced coffee. 

"Gentleman of the night, whatever," Jongdae says haughtily. "It's impossible to make jokes like that when you'll fuck anything."

"Ha, ha," Chanyeol replies dryly. He's known Jongdae too long to take him seriously when he says obviously untrue things like that. "They're in the shower. What are you making?"

"Pancakes, of course." Jongdae's smirk makes him look like a cat, or perhaps Chanyeol has just associated him with one for too long. "What's with the ambiguous pronouns?"

Chanyeol shrugs and chugs a generous amount of coffee. "They're an ambiguous person. We didn't get around to discussing pronouns."

He had thought Jongdae would accept that, only his roommate is pausing to flip the pancakes and immediately stalks over to wave the spatula in Chanyeol's face; Chanyeol's eyes follow the repetitive motion.

"You slept with someone without asking their pronouns?!"

It's loud enough that Baekhyun probably heard it in the shower, but Chanyeol just frowns and folds his arms. "I'm sorry, they didn't cover non-binary people in my social skills classes."

Jongdae sighs dramatically, spatula across his forehead. "You _always_ ask their pronouns. It's Pride weekend for fuck's sake!"

"Noted." Chanyeol yawns and rests his chin on Jongdae's head, purposely being annoying. "What kind of pancakes are you making?"

"Pecan," Jongdae answers, and Chanyeol takes a deep breath of delicious pancake air and Jongdae's shampoo. "I hope your overnight companion isn't allergic to nuts."

"They're not allergic to _these nuts_ ," Chanyeol booms, giving Jongdae a firm hump before laughing maniacally at his stupid pun.

"You're the worst fuckboy ever," Jongdae mutters. "I don't know how you ever get laid."

Chanyeol's laughter fades, and he stares outside at the colorful wind chime that shines through the whole spectrum of light. "I don't know either."

The tower of pancakes has just fallen over when Baekhyun prances out of the bathroom, drowning in one of Chanyeol's oversized shirts with their hair flat and wet. They're still as visually satisfying as they were last night, on the dance floor and on his lap, and Chanyeol makes a note to ask his therapist if it's healthy to self-stimulate with another person.

"You must be Jongdae," Baekhyun announces happily, grinning at the cat at the stove. "I'm Baekhyun. I've heard a lot about you."

"I don't know anything about you," Jongdae replies bluntly. "What pronouns do you use?"

Baekhyun's face lights up, like they've been waiting all weekend for someone to ask them that exact question. "They, them, theirs--and sometimes Daddy."

Jongdae throws Chanyeol a dubious look, like he has any room to judge, and Chanyeol lets out a bark of laughter. He can't tell if Baekhyun is kidding or not, and for once he's excited to find out.


End file.
